The Watcher
I am part of the gate.
Cold hard rusted keeping the prisoner inside.
I am just an outline...
Disease starting down so deep
Eating its way out.
This is where it begins (secret captive sin)
In a single rod of the iron gate
Rusted and no longer serving its purpose
I curve my posture, veil the reflections of comprehension in eyes and breathe...
And watch them participate in the movement of the play
While I am welded into the gate to watch them marching onward...
I am just an outline...
Travel onward through crevice of shallow space catch a breath crawl onward
Travel onward through crevice of shallow space catch a breath crawl onward
Searing in this I die, in the openness of wound...
I am part of the gate. I am cold, I am rusted.
I am the prisoner inside.
Autor(es): Crisis
